Two Little Moments

The first, a funny:

Me: "Steven, which is your favorite Skittle?"
Steven: "All of them. I just get a handful and put them all in my mouth."
Me: "Really? At one time?? You mean, you've never tried each one individually?"
Steven: "Nope, Grace. I taste the rainbow."

 

The second needs a little bit of background. I work nights, and by the time I get home in the mornings, Steven has usually left for work. By the time he gets home in the evenings, I'm usually gone for work. The three nights a week I work consistently--Thursday, Friday, Saturday--are days we see very, very little of one another. But, how blessed am I? Because Steven goes home, cooks dinner, and then waits until I'm going to be hungry and as free to take a lunch as one ever gets in a  hospital, and brings it up to work and eats with me. Every. Single. Night. I. Work. After he's had a long day himself. This particular night, I was missing him fiercely, and dreaded him leaving. I must have gotten three kisses goodbye before I grabbed his arm.

"Walk me upstairs," I pleaded. He gave me a look, but, with little argument, he followed me into the elevator. I hung onto him as we jerked up past the first, the second, the third, the fourth, and finally clumped to a stop at the fifth floor.

"I love you," he kissed me again, clearly intending to just ride back down.

"NO! You have to walk me to my station, Steven!! It's just right there, look you can see it from here!"

"Grace..." he sighed, but complied again, taking my hand. We finally stopped right at the very last step that he could follow and he kissed me again. This time, I let him make it about four steps before I called, "Wait! You didn't give me a goodbye hug! Those are important!"

"Grace," he said, turning back with another look. "If you could survive on as little sleep as I did, Rome would burn." Because he'd been up for hours, and it was almost 3 am, and he had to work in the morning, and I felt a horrid little pang of guilt. My eyes dropped.

"I'm sorry..." I whispered. "You didn't have to come. Here, go home. I love you. Text me and let me know you get home safe." With a small growl, he grabbed me up in a hug.

"I said Rome would burn  if YOU tried to function on this little sleep," he told me. "I, on the other hand, do it all the time." And then there was his perfect smirk, a kiss, the all important hug, and he was gone.

He's so good to me.